


Tales from Birch Ridge Mountain

by hotskytrotsky



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Plot, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotskytrotsky/pseuds/hotskytrotsky
Summary: Killua came to Birch Ridge Mountain expecting the usual: drug lords, organized crime, and general lawlessness. What he didn't expect was a crash course in human nature.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. The outsiders arrive

**Author's Note:**

> Plot-heavy, lots of exploring the setting. To that end, I will introduce several original characters. Some implied Gon/Killua but it's not a big part of the fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! It's been a long time since I wrote anything creative.
> 
> Inspired by a certain documentary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua arrives on Birch Ridge Mountain, and runs into someone he never expected to meet here.

The town of Birch Point was, somehow, simultaneously dusty and humid. Because it was nestled at the base of an imposing mountain, a shadow draped the town in gloominess for almost the entire day. In the rare moments that the sun did make an appearance, the town’s namesake birch trees filtered out all but the weakest, most hesitant tendrils of light. Given its remote location along an offshoot of a lesser-known route in a lesser-known region of the O’lanee Coast, Birch Point only ever attracted visitors with one of three very specific purposes.

 _The first purpose_ : To grow, harvest, trim, and process plants used in high-value medicinal ointments and illegal narcotics.

 _The second purpose:_ To escape a pursuer, often law enforcement or debt collectors, but also bandits, mafia, and lovers.

 _The third purpose_ : To hunt down a person attempting to escape. 

The first held no draw for Killua. As he rode into town along a bumpy road, crammed into the back of a falling-apart pickup truck along with dozens of other new arrivals, he scanned his fellow travelers’ faces and hands. Most wore masks, either to protect against the dust or to conceal their identities. Some carried knives and shears...possibly a weapon, or possibly a tool for the harvest. Both the men and the women were mostly hard-muscled, save two who looked ill and frail.

None were _Nen_ users, unless they were skilled enough to dampen the flow of their aura just enough to appear like normal people, but without completely concealing their presence. Primarily seasonal agricultural workers, not hitmen, Killua thought. But even those who came to Birch Point simply looking for work had to be prepared to fight, if it came down to it.

Killua stood out among the group riding in the bed of the truck. It wasn’t his age; fifteen-year-olds could certainly find work on Birch Ridge Mountain. Nor how he dressed; a T-shirt and shorts weren’t unusual in the late-summer heat, especially for younger workers who had not yet learned to protect their limbs from stinging plants and harsh chemicals.

Something about the way Killua carried himself and the look in his eye set him apart. Yet no one asked him what he was doing there, or where he was going. It wasn’t the way.

Finally, the truck trundled to a halt, and the people in the back climbed wordlessly out. Killua kicked his legs, easing the soreness of the bumpy four-hour ride. To the right, the dirt road widened into a shabby Main Street with only a handful of buildings: a cheap motel, a diner, and a hardware store. The style of the buildings looked sixty years out of date. Outside the hardware store, a group of men wearing camouflage sat watchfully, clearly armed. This was the entire town of Birch Point.

To the left, the dirt road continued reaching up and around the mountain, fading into darkness among the trees. Even using _Gyo_ to focus his eyes, Killua could not make out anything farther than a few meters into the forest.

He caught up easily with the truck that had brought him, starting on its way back down the mountain.

“Hey,” said Killua, walking alongside the moving driver’s window.

“What’s the matter, kid?” said the driver. “In too deep and need a ride back? You have to pay again, you know.”

“Nah,” said Killua. He pointed up and along the path to the left, continuing into the forest. “How much to take me up there?”

“How much?” said the driver, surprised. “No, hell no. That deep into Birch Ridge, folks get...protective. No price on that. You’re on your own for that one.”

“Thanks anyway,” said Killua, and let the truck drive away. He turned back towards the town, and surveyed his options. The new arrivals he’d ridden with were dispersing, many of them waiting to get picked up by the farmers that employed them. Others had already disappeared into the forest. Only one had moved towards the diner and motel.

That was odd, but first things first, Killua needed to eat and rest. Then, he would decide what to do next.

\-----

Sitting along the window of the diner, Killua watched the workers leave, one by one, in the back of farmers’ trucks. Suddenly, he realized that no one had asked their driver for a ride back down the mountain, and the driver hadn’t stuck around to pick up any return passengers, either. Was it because the lucrative harvest season made leaving right now an unpopular choice? Or was it just that hard to make it off of Birch Ridge Mountain?

“Anything else?” asked the server, setting Killua’s coffee down on the table. She had seemed surprised when Killua entered and actually ordered.

“Yes, a slice of cheesecake?” said Killua, ignoring the fact that he’d already asked for this.

“For sure,” said the server, and disappeared again. When she came back, she set down a slice of cherry pie. Killua sighed, and accepted it.

“Excuse me,” said the server. “You just got off the truck.”

“I know,” said Killua, with ever the slightest eye roll.

“You look pretty young,” the server continued, giving him a concerned look. “I don’t usually talk to customers, but…”

“You shouldn’t waste your time telling me it’s dangerous and how I should go home,” Killua explained, keeping his tone polite. “My home is more dangerous than this. And anyway, I want to be here.”

“Oh, no worries,” said the server. “Same for me.”

Killua tried the coffee and the pie. The coffee was, naturally, bad, but the pie was surprisingly good. The server watched his movements carefully.

“What’s your name?” asked Killua.

“Amelle,” said Amelle.

“Mine’s Killua.” He paused to take another bite of pie. “So, what’s the deal with that other road? The driver wouldn’t take me up any farther.”

“You know how this is a farming town?” Amelle asked. Killua nodded, although _farming town_ was a stretch. “Well, most of the farmers run their operations on the south side of the mountain, that gets the most sunlight and good rain. So, if you keep going along this way, past the town, you’ll start seeing fields and stuff.”

“Okay,” said Killua.

“Don’t go too far that way, unless you’re riding with a farmer, or a local who knows what they’re doing,” said Amelle. “Folks around here don’t like outsiders looking at or wandering around their stuff. The crops can be really valuable.”

 _And really illegal,_ thought Killua. Aloud, he said, “Got it.”

“Up farther, there’s not enough sunlight to grow much,” Amelle explained. “So, there’s no work up there.”

“Is that why that guy wouldn’t drive me?” asked Killua. _She’s not telling me anything,_ he thought, _but I’ll find out one way or another._

“Yeah,” said Amelle. “There’s really no reason for an outsider to go up that way.”

Killua decided to push her. “What would happen if I went?”

“You’d probably get lost,” said Amelle.

“I don’t get lost.”

“Well, then, you’d be OK,” said Amelle with a little smile. “But a lot of people get lost up here. Even people with a good sense of direction.”

 _I get it..._ thought Killua. _This whole time, she’s been acting like she’s trying to help me, but she’s really just giving me subtle threats. Is that her real job? To keep outsiders from poking around too much?_

“Thank you for the information,” said Killua, downing the rest of his coffee. “Could I have the check, please?”

“Certainly,” said Amelle.

When the check came, it included a 100J automatic gratuity.

\-----

At the hardware store, Killua finally found some at least a few answers. The armed men outside weren’t just guarding the store, they were showcasing the wares. It seemed to be more of an off-the-grid firearms market than an actual hardware store, though they did also have screwdrivers. Uninterested in guns or screwdrivers, Killua bought a bag of chips and headed out, intending to check out the motel to see if it seemed like a safe place to stay the night. As soon as he opened the door to exit, he felt his muscles tense and his sense of hearing heighten. An instinctive reaction to the knowledge that someone was following him.

 _It’s on,_ he thought. He made his way around the motel and headed deeper into town, past dozens of houses that must have once been beautiful, with dilapidated porches and faded paint in once-cheery colors. The evening sun gave a second life to their aging paint, lighting walls and roofs up in glowing browns and greens, obscuring the many cracks and missing chunks.

Even with his highly-attuned hearing, the only footsteps Killua could hear were obviously locals going about their business, steps heavy with groceries or brushed together with brooms. He could sense no unexpected presence, no one who was tense or excited for a hunt. After making his way past the small cluster of houses, Killua was now on the open road leading to the closely-guarded fields of illegal crops. He felt no change in the persistence, patience, and silence of whoever was following him.

The tension in his muscles increased just a hair. This was no idle curiosity...whoever was pursuing him had a definite purpose, most likely to do him harm. Had he gone too far in asking Amelle all those questions? Had he snooped too much in the firearms market? Or, was this simply a vigilante who targeted any outsiders?

The sun was beginning to set, painting the road and the trees in a yellow-orange glow. Killua passed a sign that read “LOCALS ONLY”, studded with bullet holes. From several tree branches hung flags with a yellow-and-black cross, representing a regional ethnic separatist movement. Was it more risky to stop and confront his stalker, or to continue on into the nightfall setting upon land ruled by drug lords?

Killua watched the dirt roll continuously beneath his feet. He did not look back, but he sensed that the last small cluster of buildings was now far behind him, likely out of sight behind on this curving, tree-lined path. All the while, the presence of his stalker stayed a subtle, constant tension, like a single note played continuously on a cello. Suddenly, Killua realized something.

_This person is an outsider, like me._

_If they were a local trying to run me out of town, they would relax as I get farther away from Birch Point. If they were a farmer trying to protect their crop, they would get more excited as I get closer to the fields._

_But their aura isn’t changing. They don’t care about this place. So, what do they want with me?_

Killua stopped suddenly, raising a little cloud of dust as he dug his sneakers into the dirt. “If you’re gonna fight me…” he said clearly. “Fight me.”

A shadowy figure darted out the trees on his left, jumped high into the air, and, finally, alighted on the path in front of him. With the setting sun behind this strange person, Killua could not make out anything more detailed than their approximate shape and size. In fact, they were only a little bigger than him. Killua could not see any weapons that they carried, but their aura was smooth and calm, yet immensely sturdy, like stone.

“Killua,” said the figure, and bowed.

Killua took in a surprised breath, then focused _Gyo_ in his eyes, and adjusted to the sun’s light. Before him, shapeless rays of light slowly receded and resolved to reveal…

Canary, the apprentice butler of his childhood. She straightened up, and removed her hood. The butler had changed little in the last two years, though she had grown a little taller and her strength showed more visibly in her muscles now. Her hair was now pulled back into a single, voluminous ponytail. Instead of her well-starched butler’s uniform, she wore stormy gray overalls over a T-shirt. She still carried her staff, though now her aura shone through it like an opal catching the light. Had she recently learned to use _Nen_ in combat, like him, or had Killua just been unable to see it before?

The two stood silently, neither relaxing nor hardening into a fighting stance.

“I apologize for following you,” said Canary evenly. “I did not want to encounter you in the presence of others.”

“I understand,” said Killua. “Why are you here?”

Canary said nothing.

“Well, I don’t wanna tell you either,” Killua said, rolling his shoulders in a warm-up. “Loser talks?”

Canary’s eyes hardened, and the aura within her staff glowed ever so slightly brighter.

Killua walked slowly around his former servant, observing her reaction. Playfully, he made a feint towards her side, but she did not move an inch. Her staff cleanly blocked his real attempt at a double-handed strike to her shoulder. Killua rebounded neatly, landing in a crouch. _A good block, but not strong enough to throw me off,_ he thought.

However, after a second, Killua felt a sensation like cupping cold water in his palms, originating where he had struck Canary’s staff. The feeling grew heavier and colder, spreading into his fingers. Not daring to take his eyes off his opponent, Killua could only wonder what was going on. He attempted to make a fist, but realized that his fingers were not responding.

“What - “ he started to say, but Canary’s staff met him squarely in the jaw, and sent him flying. Killua rolled with the momentum and flipped over his head onto his feet, his incapacitated hands cradled gently in front of his chest.

 _How long will this last?_ Killua wondered, as his hands stayed numb and unresponsive. _I could try Kanmuru, but I don’t want to show her the full extent of my ability yet. I’ll have to use my feet..._

“That’s _Frostbite Shield_ ,” explained Canary, her eyes still locked on Killua. “You won’t be able to use your hands for thirty minutes. My ability also has a numbing effect. But once it wears off, you will feel a significant amount of pain.”

Killua shook off the surprise, deciding to ignore the uncomfortable sensation. His hands felt heavy and stiff, more like rocks attached to the ends of his arms than an actual part of his body. He shifted his weight rapidly between his feet, gaging Canary’s reaction.

 _Without my hands, I don’t have many options to attack and block,_ Killua thought. _Which means, she can anticipate my moves._

He darted forward to try a quick low kick, but Canary threw his standing leg out from under him with her staff.

_I’ll have to try something unexpected._

Killua began falling to the dirt face-first, but, in a split second, he slammed his useless hands into the ground at full speed, propelling himself heels-over-head towards Canary again. From this disadvantageous position, he knew he would not be able to muster much physical force for another attack. Instead, he focused his _Nen_ in his toes mid-air, letting it crackle and spark until his shoes began to steam. 

_Now,_ he thought. Though he usually conducted electricity through his hands and fingers, this seemed to be working. He fed all of his energy into the sparks building in his foot, and let his momentum carry him towards Canary for one final blow.

Canary, caught off-guard from his strange approach, was not quick enough to block him. Killua made solid contact with Canary’s side. Although, physically speaking, it was a weak attack, the electric jolt delivered a powerful shock, and Canary fell to the ground, clutching her side. Electricity still crackled in the air around her.

“You are not the same,” she said.

“Neither are you,” said Killua.

“Shall we call it a draw, so as not to kill each other?” Canary offered.

“That might be wise,” acknowledged Killua.

\-----

At Canary’s campsite, they sat by a small fire, talking in hushed voices and grilling small fish for dinner. Nightfall had already come, the sun setting early behind thick forests. Killua ate happily, feeling somehow both relieved and disappointed to find a familiar face on Birch Ridge Mountain. Relieved, because he instinctively felt he could trust Canary, feeling his body relax as she showed him the way through the woods.

Disappointed, because the whole point of coming here was to prove that he could forge his own path, to cleanse himself of the co-dependencies that were dampening his growth as a Hunter.

“That was awesome,” Killua said, grinning. “ _Frostbite Shield,_ huh?”

“Thank you,” Canary said. Although her voice was typically quite level, she sounded almost a bit shy. “Your skills are quite impressive, as well. I have never seen a _Nen_ user channel electricity before.”

“Me neither,” said Killua. “But I’m probably not the first one ever to try it.”

He felt an eager, itching sensation, wanting to show her the full extent of his ability, but he held back.

“It was quite ingenious,” said Canary. “How you used my ability to your advantage. I shall think more about that weakness...”

“Huh?” said Killua. “Oh, you mean how I used my hands to propel myself?”

“Yes. When _Frostbite Shield_ is active on a person’s body part, that body part becomes extremely stiff, temporarily dead. I designed this ability so that I could stop my opponent from using any physical or _Nen_ attacks that involve that part of their body. With multiple blows or enough time to focus, I can temporarily incapacitate all the important parts, although the strength and duration of my ability diminishes when it’s used over a larger area.”

“Woah,” said Killua. “I didn’t realize that. So you’re actually - your _Nen_ is absorbing their life energy in that location?”

“Very close,” said Canary. “It is absorbing heat, rather than life energy. But life energy cannot be conducted where there is no heat.

“That sounds like it would take a _ton_ of aura to keep up.”

“Precisely,” Canary explained. “That is why I have pre-set my ability to use only a certain amount of my own energy each time it is activated. If it is contained to a small physical area, it is quite strong, like in our encounter earlier. If it is spread over a larger area, it becomes weaker, unless I override the limit. I have known about that weakness for a long time, and adjusted my strategy accordingly.”

“But if your opponent uses it like I did…”

“Yes,” said Canary. “My opponent could use their affected body parts like an object, to create leverage, or even to block my attacks.”

 _It wouldn’t matter much,_ thought Killua. _So far, her whole battle strategy is defensive. Maybe a habit from guarding my family’s estate? Or, maybe I’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg of her abilities?_

The pair ate in silence for a long time, listening to the rhythmic crackle of the fire. Killua enjoyed the feeling of sharing a meal with someone; it was a subtle sense of relaxation and ease that he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since before he met his first Chimera Ant. He wondered if Canary felt a similar way.

“Sorry for asking,” said Killua, breaking the silence. “But I’m guessing you don’t work for my family anymore? I wasn’t sure at first, but you seem...different.”

“No,” said Canary, pursing her lips before the _sir_ followed by force of habit. “I submitted my resignation three weeks ago.”

“That’s tough,” said Killua. You can’t just _quit_ working for the Zoldyck Family, especially as a member of the Butler’s Quarters, who could not help but learn all kinds of sensitive information as they served the family. The Family would not allow a person with such dangerous knowledge to walk away.

“It is,” Canary admitted. “But...it was time to pursue my own destiny.”

“I can understand that,” said Killua, and they both smiled. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I would prefer to keep my intentions private, for now,” said Canary, meeting his eyes directly.

 _She thinks I’m going to run and tattle to Mom!_ Killua thought with horror. _No,_ he realized, calming down, _she probably just thinks someone will get it out of me through torture._

“For what it’s worth, I have no loyalty to my family, and I haven’t given up information under torture since I was four,” Killua assured her.

“I am sure of that,” said Canary, smiling. “All the same…to be perfectly candid, I do not fully understand my reasons, myself. As such, I cannot properly explain them to you.”

“Oh, that’s totally cool,” said Killua. “Let me know if you wanna talk about it again. For me, I’m here to train.”

Canary looked inquisitively at him. Killua could guess what she was thinking: out of all the places where fighters gather to train, from Heavens Arena to wild reaches swarming with Magical Beasts, why come to a desolate, dusty town four hours out from anything of interest?

“I don’t know everything about Birch Point,” Killua admitted. “But I know people come here when they have nothing to lose. I need to be able to handle combat where I can’t research my opponent’s advantages and weaknesses beforehand, where I’ll have to face combat when I’m least expecting it. So, I’m here to train for what I can’t predict.”

 _And I came here to train alone,_ Killua thought, but he could not bring himself to say it aloud, so soon after reconnecting with his old companion.

Canary nodded, about to say something, but then froze. She held a finger to her lips, but Killua had already heard it, too. There was something or someone walking through the woods, not far from them. Quickly, Canary grabbed a water canteen and poured the contents over the fire. Killua scanned the area, now almost pitch-black, and could see no lanterns or torches that could light someone’s way.

 _Probably an animal, then,_ he thought, but then looked at the ruined ashes of Canary’s fire. _But, there's a reason she did that._

The sounds got closer. Killua could hear people talking, but could not make out what they were saying. They were too far for Killua to accurately sense their aura and determine if they were _Nen_ users. He and Canary crouched, concealing their presence and hiding their eyes to prevent light from reflecting back, like a beacon announcing that they were hidden there.

Eventually, the sounds of footsteps and rustling brambles moved downhill, towards the road off in the distance. Killua heard Canary’s breath become calmer, and relaxed as well. However, he did not speak or move until Canary did so.

“I do not know what they call themselves,” said Canary, in a low voice that blended in with the faint breeze rustling leaves high above them. “But they are members of an organized group that is active at night, and they are powerful fighters. That is all I have learned so far.”

“They must have some kind of night-vision tool or really good _Gyo_ ,” said Killua. “I didn’t see any lights with them.”

“Yes,” said Canary. “I cannot tell if they are _Nen_ users.”

“Me neither,” said Killua. “Damn.”

But deep down, although he and Canary hid themselves like animals fleeing a predator, Killua did not feel afraid. Not miles from civilization in these deep woods, infested with drug lords, criminals on the run, and some kind of mysterious nocturnal paramilitary organization. Not nestled in the pitch-black of a forest where light barely penetrated even during midday. Not Killua.

He felt, for the first time in a long time, as though he was actually looking forward to tomorrow.


	2. Into the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua begins his journey to find a worthy opponent. Instead, he finds a guy who's in way over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN this turned out long

“Excuse me?”

He heard the words like clouds passing swiftly, distantly by.

“Um...excuse me?”

Still those faint words could not touch him.

“KILLUA! WAKE UP!”

It wasn’t like he was trained since, _literally,_ birth to accurately perceive danger in his sleep, and either to wake at the slightest sign of it, or, alternatively, to stay asleep through heaven and hell if it was safe and he needed the rest.

Finally, a full-strength slap to his cheek woke the young assassin.

“Ouch!” he cried, cradling his smarting cheek with his hand. “What the fuck?”

When Killua looked up, he saw Canary kneeling by his side with a complicated expression: aghast, ashamed, and yet with a little twinkle of glee. _That must have gone against all of her training,_ he realized, _to lay hands on a Zoldyck, without an order._

“Oh, uh,” he said. “I probably deserved that, right?”

The twinkle of glee glowed brighter until Canary gave herself over to laughter. She giggled, along with Killua, and said, “I apologize (kind of), but it is already noon.”

“Wha - ?” Killua looked around, taking in his surroundings. Canary’s campsite was cradled in the lee of a large boulder, stuck improbably into the side of a steep, densely-forested hill. Among the tightly-spaced trees, they only had room for a small tent and a tiny, closely-guarded campfire (after all, she hadn’t been expecting to host a guest). Canary slept in the tent, while Killua slept sitting up, folded tight like a V, in-between two trees.

In the shadow of the boulder and beneath seemingly-infinite layers of leaves, brambles, and branches, the whole area was bathed in a gloomy, dusky light. It didn’t look that different from the middle of the night. Killua could even hear the lively rustling of many small animals all around them, and suddenly remembered Gon telling him something on Whale Island...

_“Right before the sun comes up, that’s the best!! That’s the only time the daytime guys and nighttime guys both come out to play. See, look! You wanna try holding him?”_

_And before Killua could answer, Gon had shoved a small creature with silvery, silky fur into his hands._

_“Woah, I didn’t think - “ Killua said, but then the creature opened its tiny mouth to reveal improbable 4-inch long fangs, razor sharp._

_“Sorry!” cried Gon, snatching the creature back. “I forgot to say, you have to hold him under the tummy...See, look, you’re happy now, aren’t you?”_

_The creature curled up into Gon’s hands, relaxed and drowsy and completely unrecognizable from a moment before. Tentatively, Killua reached out and stroked the creature’s head with just one finger, marveling at how touching its soft fur gave him a bubbly, warm feeling deep inside, a smile he couldn’t fight._

Back in reality, Killua shook his head, shaking off the memory like water.

“Woah, I thought it was dawn,” he said aloud.

“Right?” Canary agreed. “I’m still getting used to it.” 

“Hey, actually,” Killua asked. “How long have you been out here?”

“This is only my third day on this mountain,” said Canary. “But I hiked in from the east side of this mountain range, and it’s been slowly getting darker and darker the whole time…”

“Mm,” said Killua, nodding. And then it hit him. _She hiked in from the east?! In less than three weeks?_ Killua thought, in shock, as he did the math.

The previous night, Canary said she had quit her job for the Zoldycks three weeks ago, so she must have taken an airship to the O’lannee coast. Killua had initially assumed she would have arrived to one of the larger, bustling cities with busy air docks to the north or the south, and caught a truck ride in, like he had. Or maybe even hiked in from the north or the south. It was a long distance, but it wasn’t an impossible journey for someone who was in good physical condition and prepared to suffer. It was actually fairly common for young people to attempt a similar journey for bragging rights, although their destination was usually a charming little town on the coast, rather than Birch Point.

But the east-west route was a whole different story. It was completely impassable 11 months out of the year, due to the heavy ice and snowfall on the tallest peaks in the center of the range. Even the fastest, strongest, luckiest hiker with the lightest pack would take 3 months to complete the journey. Even worse, there were no towns or stopping points along the middle of the route, which meant you would have to pack, hunt, or forage your food, plus carrying all the supplies that might end up saving your life on the trail. For those reasons, only one or two people in all of world history were known to have completed the journey alive. Yet, apparently, Canary had managed the journey in less than 1/4 of the expected amount of time.

“In three weeks? Hmph,” Killua said, a little jealous, and then stopped himself. He looked at Canary, and smiled. “I mean, that’s badass.”

“Thank you,” said Canary, understanding the calculations running through Killua’s head, and returning his smile. “Anyway, I might suggest heading down to the road where there’s sunlight. It helps me orient myself in this climate.”

“Alright,” said Killua. “You wanna come with?”

“I have something I’d like to do,” said Canary, her expression unreadable. As Killua poked his way through the undergrowth down towards the road, he felt her presence remain there, kneeling in front of her tent, still as a glass of water, until she was out of his range.

\-----

About to step back out onto the exposed road, Killua stood silently for a moment, listening and feeling for signs of other people present. In mid-day, there were almost too many pieces of information to take in. Although they were out of sight, he could hear the rustling of workers maintaining the fields, the low sounds of people talking, and occasionally, the harsh shout of a supervisor calling out orders or reprimands. A truck hummed deeply, out of sight, but Killua could not pin-point its exact location: whether it was trundling up towards him along the main road, or looping around on the small access roads that linked farmers’ fields to their processing sheds.

Assessing the situation as likely safe, Killua stepped out into the sunlight, and was temporarily blinded by the sudden and dramatic increase in light. Simultaneously, he felt his circadian clock shudder and jump back into motion, and energy flooded both his limbs and his mind. _All right,_ he thought, _Now, let’s get back to training._

It had been a long time since Killua intentionally trained his skills - almost two years, in fact. He missed the pain, the sweat, the unshakeable dedication to his goal. With a bittersweet smile, he suddenly remembered Bisky making them dig tunnels to Masadora over and over again. The ever-present sun, the rocky terrain absorbing the heat and making each day nearly unbearable. The stupid, repetitive tasks and the annoying commands that Bisky barked at them. The goal, to become strong enough to defeat their opponents: undeniable, unshakeable, almost unattainable, and that made it all the better. And even better than that, that thrill, that feeling of power, of being stronger together.

Not only had it been a long time, but Killua had never trained alone. He felt a little lost, walking along this strange road. Now there was no family choosing his future for him. No master to guide his training, no one with the wisdom of experience to assess his situation for him, make a diagnosis, and say: this is what you need to learn now.

No enthusiastic companions, pulling him along towards a destination, any arbitrary destination - it really didn’t matter, because it was always just fun to go together. No one, even, just to wonder aloud to, _What should we do next?_

Killua didn’t know who his opponents might be, how they fought, or where to find them. But he thought of the truck driver, and the server at the diner, and settled on his one promising lead. _I keep hearing, don’t take that road on the other side of town. So…_

He set off towards Birch Point.

\-----

Most visitors to Birch Point try to avoid passing through the center of town on a regular basis. If you do need to pass through - say, if your job takes you through - you may want to dress and style yourself as to be completely unremarkable. You might wear one of the several types of sun-protective hat favored by farmers and field-workers, or carry a basket laden with appropriate tools like pruning shears and pesticide applicators. In a place like that, it’s best not to attract attention. You don’t want to be mistaken for snooping, after all.

Killua, on the other hand, strolled through as if he were on a Sunday jaunt to the farmer’s market. With his icy-white hair, iridescent catlike eyes, young age, and disproportionately-sized ego, he stood out like a snowball in July. He stepped into the diner to buy a cup of ice cream from Amelle, and then, unhesitatingly, began the trek up the forbidden road to the left, the suspicious eyes of the locals tracking him all the while.

Soon after he began the second leg of his journey, he reached the treeline and the untimely dusk of the forest fell upon him again. _Damn,_ Killua thought, _That really is unnerving. But - I can’t let it get to me! Training isn’t supposed to be easy!_

His determination renewed, Killua continued up the road, which became steeper and steeper as he drew further from town. He began to hear the rumble of a slow-moving motor behind him, and, this time, he was certain that the vehicle was following him up the road. His ears prickling with tension, Killua quickly took cover in the overgrown greenery off the side of the road.

Soon, an old, beaten up dirt-bike with an equally beaten-up looking rider approached, moving slowly and not-so-steadily up the hill. Killua’s eyes narrowed, as he observed from behind the voluminous leaves of a fern.

 _Did he follow me here with bad intentions?_ Killua wondered. _No...his aura ain’t anything to write home about. Unless he’s suppressing it…_

The bike passed by, and Killua heard, under the grumbles of the motor, the rider softly humming to himself. Killua stepped back into the open, but the rider, now continuing on away from him, did not notice that he had company.

“Hey you!” Killua called after him.

The rider screeched to a halt. His face was stoic, but his brow was sweaty and his shoulders stiffened hard as a board.

“Sir,” the rider said, his face frozen in quiet fear. “Please, don’t punish me. I didn’t know this was your property.”

From the rider’s body language and submissive attitude, Killua felt certain he was not a trained combatant, much less a _Nen_ user, although he was physically fit. “What’s your business here?”

“I work in the fields,” said the rider. “Boss needs some supplies picked up out here.”

“What type of supplies?” asked Killua.

“Didn’t tell me,” said the rider. “Honest truth.”

“Whatever, I was just curious,” said Killua. “Truth is, this isn’t my property. Actually, I dunno whose it is. Thought you might.”

The rider shook his head. “Nah, I just got told where to do the pickup.” His eyes flitted to his left, where a steeply-inclined path led even further into the gloomy depths of the forest. Despite his reserved demeanor, Killua felt an overwhelming sense of nervousness rolling off of him like waves of cologne.

“Can I hitch a ride?” asked Killua. “I’m headed that way anyway.”

The rider’s stoic eyebrows rose just one modest centimeter in surprise and suspicion. “I’d rather know who you are first. And _your_ business here.”

“Killua,” said Killua. “And, basically...I’m looking for a fight.” The man’s eyes widened. “Not with you!” added Killua, derisively. “You think I’m going to take you up there and kill you? Trust me, it’s not worth my time.”

“I don’t know about all that,” said the rider. “But...Dunno why, but I got this feeling like you could really fight. Feels like you could just kill me right here, if you felt like it.”

“Something like that,” said Killua. “But, hey, if you’re scared of going up the mountain by yourself...it’ll be a lot safer with me.”

“Man…” said the rider, pausing to assess his options. He shook his head, and gave Killua a pained smile. ”I’m Esalito, but they call me Esito. Get on.”

Killua hopped on the back of the dirt bike, and up they went, the old bike struggling mightily with the damp ground, exposed roots, and steep incline. It was slow going, but still slightly faster than a normal person could make it on foot. Killua, on the other hand, would far outpace the shoddy vehicle. _Dammit, this is turning into a waste of time..._

“What do you know about the neighbors up here?” asked Killua, losing patience.

“Oh, hell no,” said Esito. “I don’t know nothing.”

“Aw, c’mon,” said Killua, grinning. “Who’s the scariest, the worst of them all? That’s who I’m after.”

“Well,” said Esito. “This’s my third harvest, and people always coming and going, and dying, all that. But the one guy I always hear about, that’s Little Ronnie.”

“Little Ronnie?” asked Killua. “He’s probably like, jacked, right?”

“Nah,” said Esito. “He’s actually real little. I saw a picture of him once.”

“So what’s his deal?”

“He’s...and I ain’t afraid to tell you about this, because Little Ronnie ain’t a shy dude. He’s a mass murderer.”

Killua sighed, bored. “Aren’t we all?”

A little thrown off and unsure what his ride-along meant, Esito took a moment to gather his bearings, and then continued. “Word is, Little Ronnie was on some of them Blacklists way back then. Police, investigators, hell, even Hunters were trying to track him down.”

“Wait,” Killua interrupted. “But what’d he do in the first place?”

“Uh, dunno,” said Esito. “Point is, he got found and thrown in prison. They stuck him with a death sentence. But, the night before his execution, he killed his cellmate. Guards came to check on him, and he killed them too. He murdered every single damn guard in that place in thirty minutes with no plan, no weapons, and nobody else helping him. Then he busted out, and now him and his two death sentences live on top of the mountain.”

“Can’t be that good if he got caught,” said Killua.

“Uh, guess so,” said Esito. “Anyway, people say he’s a killing machine. Something snapped inside him that day and now he kills anyone he comes across, literally, for no reason. The only thing he can do is kill and he can’t stop himself. He lives way up on this side of the mountain and keeps to himself, hunts his own food, but if he ever comes across you on the road, you’re a goner. Doesn’t matter if you’re with people or not...you’re all goners. That’s Little Ronnie.”

“Man, I’m disappointed,” said Killua. “My dad would probably call that dude a Level 3. I was doing Level 3 jobs when I was seven.”

Esito said nothing, having decided he had heard too much already.

“Oh, and sorry for having a bad attitude about all this,” said Killua, laughing a little. “My last job was exterminating an invasive species of ants that killed an entire nation of humans in just a few days. So it’s just a bit of a let-down, you know?”

“I…” said Esito. After a long pause, he said, “You’re not from around here, huh?”

“Well, you’re not from around here, either.”

“But, you’re _really_ not from around here.”

Killua just laughed, and they rode on, slowly, in silence. After getting turned around a few times, they reached what was apparently their destination: a densely-wooded stretch of the road, completely identical to all other parts along the path, except for an old, rusted-out water spigot that was almost imperceptible because it was completely covered in vines.

“Ahh,” said Esito. “I think this is it.”

“You don’t know whose place this is, right?” asked Killua, peering into the dark depths of the birch trees. He could hardly see more than 10 feet off of the road, between the density at which the trees grew, the undergrowth stretching and winding its way up to nearly the height of a grown person, and the fortress-like canopy resisting the midday sun. There was no sign of any paths or side-roads, nor any buildings or shelters they might lead to.

“Nah, no idea,” said Esito. “He just said, find the water tap and then…”

Esito stepped carefully through the brambles, finding a spot about five feet from the spigot. He drew a hand trowel from a pocket in his pants, knelt down, and began attempting to scrape at the ground. The thick brambles and bushes formed something like a protective net over the earth, hindering Esito’s attempts.

“Damn it,” said Esito. “Should have brought different tools.”

“Hang on,” said Killua, approaching the spot. He reached his hands down into the brambles, ignoring the scrapes of thorns and rough bark on his skin, and leaned over. From this position, in the gloom, he felt certain Esito could not see his hands any longer. Feeling a little twinge of glee, Killua focused his energy and transmuted his fingernails into incredibly sharp little blades. With blinding speed, he pulled his hands back up through the brambles, slicing through every barrier neatly and letting the now-incapcitated plants fall away limply.

Suddenly, Killua’s breath felt a little stronger than before. His whole body felt more alive than usual, his life energy awake and ready. He couldn’t deny it; there was a thrill that came with using his abilities, even in a small, mundane way like this.

“Thanks,” Esito said, seemingly unfazed. _He probably thinks I have a knife or something,_ Killua realized, trying to hide his sudden burst of energy and excitement.

Esito began digging, making slow progress with his small hand trowel in the damp soil, that almost stuck together like clay.

“I dunno about this,” Esito muttered as he worked. “That water tap, that’s from a well, right?”

“Guess so,” said Killua, not a country boy.

“Don’t wanna be digging into the water supply,” said Esito.

“Eh,” said Killua.

Just at that moment, Esito’s trowel hit something that was not rock, nor soil, nor root. 

“Oh shit!” cried Esito. “Found it!”

“What is it?” Killua asked, getting invested in Esito’s excitement despite himself.

“I think…” said Esito, furiously excavating the object. “It’s some type of package.”

Killua peered over his shoulder as a haphazard shape emerged from the earth, damp and covered in clumps of soil. Killua said, “This is your boss’s supplies?”

“Guess so,” said Esito. “Think we should open it?”

“I’m gonna open it if you don’t,” said Killua, his curiosity and Hunter instincts getting the better of him.

Together, they dusted the soil off of the bundle, finding a drawstring bag made of a waterproof, waxy-feeling material underneath the debris. Cautiously, Esito undid the drawstring closure, and peered into the bag. Suddenly, Esito’s breath stopped, and he crouched there, immobile for a long moment. Then he closed the bag up again and hung his head.

“What is it?” asked Killua.

“Fuck,” said Esito. “Fuck, fuck. Cash. Loads of cash. Probably 10 million Jenny right there. I gotta make it down the mountain, through town, and all the way back to the farm carrying that! Might as well have a sign on my chest saying _Shoot Me._ ”

“No one followed us here,” said Killua. “I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, well, that’s good, _if_ it’s true,” said Esito, his face growing red despite his apparent attempts to calm down. “But what if somebody noticed me along the way, waiting for me to come back down.”

“You didn’t even know what you were coming up here for,” said Killua. “Why would somebody else?”

“I don’t know. They talk to my boss. They talk to whoever paid my boss. Maybe it’s, like, normal for farmers to send guys like me up here to get bags full of money, I don’t know!”

Killua, growing tired of dealing with Esito’s nerves, grabbed Esito by the arm and pulled him up to his feet. “Look,” said Killua roughly. “I’m an assassin and a licensed Hunter. You probably know that by now. If anybody messes with you on the way back, I’ll just stop them. You good now?”

At first, Esito’s face showed nothing but nerves and surprise at the boy’s sudden display of strength, but then his breath slowed, and his face began to return to its normal color. “Uh, yeah. I’m good now.”

“No problem,” said Killua. _I kinda wanted to stay up here and find Little Ronnie,_ he grumbled to himself. _Well, now I know where it is, so I can just come back. Plus, this way, it sounds like we might run into some fun on the way down._

The pair made their way back to the sad little dirt bike, where Esito carefully packed his bundle of cash into his satchel. As they began the bumpy, steep ride down the mountain, the trees started to thin. Sunlight began to make a more prominent appearance, highlighting the wisps of dust rising up from the road and the glimmering surfaces of leaves and stems. The gloomy forest suddenly seemed almost peaceful, and pretty.

Quietly, Esito said as he drove, “Sorry. I just...I ain’t like you. I ain’t a fighter. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in fights, but I sure as hell didn’t win ‘em. I wasn’t made to deal with these Birch Point types. I don’t want no part in this bullshit! I just come up here once a year to make money, so I can send my girl to school.”

“That’s real,” said Killua softly. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“You think?” asked Esito. “Doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of anything.”

“Yeah,” Killua said. “But fear can be...good. Like, back then, I was ready to die for a friend. I got damn close, too. But now...You said you have a daughter?”

“Yup, two,” said Esito. “Eight and three years old.”

“I have a sister, she’s 14,” said Killua. Suddenly, he was glad to be riding behind Esito, where the other man could not see his face. He turned to the side, watching greens, browns, and tans blur together along the roadside. “I take care of her now. She doesn’t have anyone but me. But I’m still out here, hunting down mass murders.” Killua sighed, deeply. “I know how to die for someone, but I don’t know how to stay alive for her. But I love her.”

Esito was quiet, and for a moment Killua felt like he had said too much. Perhaps he had displayed too much emotion, or spoken too much about killing and dying with someone that he had only just met. But then, he noticed Esito’s back shaking subtly as he steered the dirt bike, and heard a sniffle.

“Sorry,” said Esito, through tears. “That’s intense, man. You sound like a good brother.”

“You sound like a good dad,” said Killua, unable to stop himself from smiling immensely, almost painfully at his companion’s words.

With that, the pair emerged fully from the forest, the narrow dirt road spitting them out next to a meadow just uphill of the town of Birch Point. From deep within the grasses, Russian sage plants poked out intermittently, among orange and white wildflowers. The blue sky above them felt like a huzzah, a celebration of their return to safety - although, of course, this was a false feeling, as they still had to make it through town.

As if on cue, footsteps came pounding up the path ahead, from town. _Esito wasn’t being paranoid,_ Killua thought, _Someone was waiting for us!_ Esito slammed the breaks and Killua dismounted, running, before the bike had come to a complete stop. He prepared to fight, tensing his muscles and engaging his _Ten._

Killua thought of the armed men standing outside the hardware store, and hardened his resolve. This could be a new challenge for him; he hadn’t ever fought an opponent armed with a gun in a direct, one-on-one confrontation. Yet he felt confident that his speed and his defensive _Nen_ abilities combined would suffice to make any firearms functionally useless. Actually, if he was being honest with himself, he felt more than confident: excited, eager.

However, when the approaching person rounded the top of the hill and came into view, it was not an armed man, but someone he recognized: Amelle, the server at the local diner. She was carrying no weapons, but she was running at a breakneck pace and her face showed absolute desperation. When she reached them, Amelle collapsed, face-down into the dirt at Killua’s feet. Killua swallowed, feeling his battle-ready energy hang unsurely in the air like fog.

“Please!” Amelle cried. “I need your help!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So where *is* lil Alluka? Don't worry, we'll find out.
> 
> I tried to write Esito as just a completely normal guy, but HxH is all about being superhuman. Super strong, smart, brave, caring, reckless... It was harder than I expected to write those two types of characters interacting. I think Killua would be annoyed by him, but also feel protective if they got to know each other.


End file.
